


je rêvais le bonheur, ardent mirage.

by Aja



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/pseuds/Aja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one's for Anon, who requested <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/756.html?thread=2292#t2292">Cobb/Saito hurt/comfort after the film.</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	je rêvais le bonheur, ardent mirage.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Anon, who requested [Cobb/Saito hurt/comfort after the film.](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/756.html?thread=2292#t2292)

Dom texts Saito as he's leaving the airport with Miles:

**_are you ok?_** 


He gets a response back in under a minute:

_**I don't know**_ 


He closes his eyes, rubs his forehead. He has to see his children, it's the only thing he's been able to think about since he woke up on the plane; but Miles hasn't brought them to L.A. because he thinks Dom needs to rest. Dom wants to tell him he doesn't think he remembers how anymore, but he's too fucking tired. He looks over at the driver's seat. Miles is focusing on traffic, lips tight. Dom realizes he's not the only one who's forgotten.  
  
"Your Mr. Saito must be a very high-powered friend," Miles says conversationally. He hasn't asked for any of the details of this one last job, and Dom knows that's better for both of them. "You're absolutely certain he can come through? The feds won't break down the door of your hotel room if we stay in L.A. overnight?"  
  
Dom looks down at his phone.

_**It takes a while to adjust. You'll be fine.**_ 


"He's not my Mr. Saito," he says after a moment. "He's a good friend." He hesitates. Then he adds softly, "It was a good job. It was for a good reason."   
  
He remembers Eames' smile as he passed Robert on the way outside of the airport. There's never any strict protocol about making contact with your subjects after the job's over, but Eames never gives most of their subjects a second thought. He catalogues emotional connection like it's just another checkbox on a long list of steps. He doesn't  _smile_  at them.  
  
This job has changed all of them.  
  
His phone vibrates.

_**Everything feels... well. I'm sure you know, don't you?**_ 


He texts back:

_**yes. I know.**_ 


He closes his eyes and tries to feel grounded, tries to feel at home in his body, solid, in this car grinding in regular rhythm against the L.A. pavement. The sun is warm on his hands through the windshield. He realizes he's half-waiting for a responding text from Saito.  
  
He doesn't ask where Miles is taking him until he realizes they've somehow wound up in West Hollywod. "Where are we?" he asks. "What are we doing on the strip?"  
  
"Oh," says Miles. "We're staying at the Mondrian."  
  
"Jesus," Dom says. "I'd've been happy with the Super 8 across from the airport."  
  
"It wasn't up to me," Miles says. "Our rooms have been comped." Dom blinks. "I got a call while I was waiting for you at the airpot," Miles says evenly. "Mr. Saito must be a  _very_  good friend."  
  
The Mondrian is the kind of hotel that makes Dom automatically nervous, the kind that never asks questions of its guests, the kind Dom normally only stays at as part of a job or part of the getaway after. Dom tells himself he's not that kind of guest any longer; he has nothing to hide, he's just any other businessman, reaping the profits of a high-powered investment. But he feels the looks from the concierge and the bellhops like accusatory projections; they know he doesn't belong here. Miles is right at home, sinking into the 300- thread-count sheets with exaggerated sighs of pleasure. He's asleep within minutes.   
  
Dom sits gingerly on the plush white sofa, between the fresh orchids on the stainless polyethurene orange table, and the stainless steel lamp, low-level energy-saving beams of light seeping through the ridiculous feathered lampshade.  
  
He lasts all of ten minutes before heading to the Skybar.   
  
It's not quite evening in Los Angeles, and normally by this time the whole place would be packed full of gyrating girls in bikinis and men swirling martinis and B-list celebs chatting up hotel guests. But tonight he walks through the bar and outside to the patio without seeing anyone. The whole place is empty. Even the bartenders are gone.  
  
Normally Dom couldn't stand on the steps to the pool and see past the throng of partiers to the skyline beyond; but tonight, the lights in the pool go on just as he reaches the doorway, and it's as if all of L.A. suddenly lights up just for him: the skyline beyond glows bright and dusky, and the pool shimmers orange and gold.  
  
On the opposite side of the pool, Saito is sitting alone on a chaise. He's already changed his suit from the long flight, and Dom suddenly feels sheepish for not having done the same. He's lived so long out of time, moving from job to job, that it feels strange not having a reason for a suit and a shave apart from pure comfort. Saito is looking out over the city. He's wearing off-white and looks like he's just returned from safari, and Dom fights a sudden, sharp urge to giggle at how bizarre all of this is.  
  
Instead he goes and sits down. Saito doesn't even acknowledge him, just nods briefly, says, "Mr. Cobb," and slides one of his drinks across the table. Dom nods back and takes a long sip. Bourbon. The color of the L.A. sunset all around them.   
  
"You own the Mondrian?" Dom asks by way of greeting. Saito does look back at him at that, smiling a little.   
  
"Practically," he says. His eyes are also the same shade as the bourbon in Dom's hand, Dom realizes. They're narrowed a little and still holding him in an intense gaze, the same one they shared earlier, as Dom shifts his chair closer.  
  
"How are you doing?" he asks. "Seriously?"  
  
"I bought out the hotel reservations," Saito says. "In the airport I couldn't stop wondering who was real and who was a projection."  
  
Dom leans in and rests his hand on Saito's knee. "It's always hard coming back to reality," he says. "But you've already done the hardest part. You're already here."  
  
Saito tilts his head and appraises him. "Am I, Mr. Cobb?" he says. "This place, these people..." he gestures to the empty bar and city below them, and Dom's stomach turns over at the thought of losing someone else to the inception. The thought flashes through his mind that an inception, once taken hold, could be contagious, could spread like a virus to everyone around him. Maybe there was a reason Mal had gone to Saito to rat them out. Maybe she'd come to start the spread.  
  
Outloud, all he says is: "Don't you think it's about time you called me Dom?"  
  
Saito's gaze is penetrating. Dom always has felt transparent underneath that calm stare. He thinks about how Saito should be the one who's trembling right now, not him. He should be used to this.  
  
Saito leans in and puts his hand alongside Dom's on his knee, his fingertips just brushing Dom's. Then he places his mouth by Dom's ear so that his words brush the hair along Dom's neck.  
  
"You promised me we would be young men together again," he whispers. "Why, then, do I still feel old?"  
  
Dom shivers. "You just need time to adjust," he says. "We all do at first."  
  
Saito says, "I think I need more than that, Dominic." He lets the warmth of his voice hover over Dom's skin, and then he follows it up with the briefest press of his lips against the shell of Dom's ear. "I think I need someone to show me. To remind me what it's like to be young."  
  
Dom closes his eyes. Crazily, he thinks  _this wasn't in our contract_  and stifles the urge to laugh. His hand is still lingering on Saito's knee. It's simple to slide it up to the warm press of Saito's thigh.  
  
"I can do that for you, Mr. Saito," he says, turning his head to whisper in Saito's ear. "I can do that now, if you'd like."  
  
Saito pulls back just enough to fix him with a full-on gaze. "I would be most happy if you'd oblige me in this matter, Dom," he says.  
  
"The pleasure's all mine," Dom says automatically, and when Saito kisses him, wet and tasting of bourbon, he realizes, to his utter shock, that he's actually telling the truth.  
  
________  
  
The final glow of sunset is fading orange to black. Dom thinks the suite is probably the penthouse but he can't really be sure, and he's feeling too sated to ask.   
  
Next to him, Saito shifts comfortably onto his side and says, "You can rest here til morning. Rest as long as you like."  
  
His fingers curl gently around Dom's arm.   
  
Dom says, out loud, "Rest would be good."  
  
Maybe he can remember how, after all.


End file.
